


Rain and Blood

by Moonlights_Inkwell



Series: Jason Todd fics [8]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman: Arkham - All Media Types, Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Injury Recovery, M/M, No pronouns used for Reader, gender neutral reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-05-24 15:38:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14957367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonlights_Inkwell/pseuds/Moonlights_Inkwell
Summary: After a long day studying, you plan on coming home and spending a night with your couch and Netflix account; but when you find Jason injured after a patrol goes wrong, you make it your mission to patch him up.





	Rain and Blood

Walking slowly, drenched from the rain, you travelled quickly through the soaked streets of Gotham, stomping through each individual puddle in your path. The rain had begun when you had gotten halfway home, after being completely dry during the several hours that you had been studying in the library; as if it had been waiting specifically to get you wet and exasperated. You swore that nature knew that everything waterproof you owned was left at home. Even the jacket you had slipped on had done little to save you from the wet. The city was almost impossible to navigate when it was dry and light outside, but in the wet with only the orange fluorescent glow of the streetlamps to help light the way, it was a miracle that you had made it home so quickly from the library without being run over or mugged. Thank god for small mercies.  
Clothes having long since grown heavy and [H/C] hair plastered to your forehead, you leaned against the door to the apartment building, scrabbling through damp jean jacket pockets in search of keys. Damn it. You had to find those keys. Jason was likely to already be out on patrol and without them, the only alternative was to try and climb the fire escape and jimmy a window open, risking falling off of the treacherous rickety metal frame, unless you were willing to wait out in the rain until at least three AM. As soon as the keys were finally in your hand, a loud and painful groan echoed from the dark alleyway to the side of the building. In your mind, you could hear Jason warning you that going over there was the sort of stupid move that could get you mugged- or raped, or worse killed- but that didn’t seem like a sound someone would make to lure people in, but more like a genuine sound of pain.  
So that was why, with newly found keys slotted in the gaps between almost unmovable fingers, you slowly navigated over to the alleyway. No source of light visible aside from a small neon light from the back of a store, casting the dumpsters and fire escape in a faint but somehow overpowering pink. The gross scent of garbage was masked only slightly by the metallic smell of blood- Maybe the puddle that you had just been stood in was more than just rainwater… You would have potentially allowed yourself more time to think about that prospect if the groaning noise hadn’t started up once more. It seemed to be coming from behind one of the disgusting looking dumpsters; the landlord hadn’t had them emptied in weeks and the garbage truck couldn’t fit down the thin street leading to the apartment building, and for that, you felt bad for whoever was behind it. You knew from taking your own trash out that the walls of the dumpster were covered in a viscous layer of trash juice, and you didn't envy the person leaning against the metal bin; that combined with the rain had to mean that the fluids were seeping into their clothes.  
“…Hello?” You called out quietly, hoping against hope that whoever was in the alley didn’t have bad intentions- or that if they did Jason would be close by to save you if things did go awry. It wasn't the sort of thing that most people would hope for, but with the state of things in Gotham... you didn't feel awful for needing Jason to fight some of your battles- but only for the more dangerous people. “…A-Anybody there?”  
“Hey…” Came a weak but all too familiar voice, the voice that had spoken to you this morning from the other side of the bed, making you step closer in worry.  
“Jay?” You stepped ever closer still as the rain seemed to fall even heavier, and the man behind the dumpster nodded. His black hair was plastered against his head, stark white streak curling across the red domino mask across his eyes, his red- cracked open across the left eye- helmet resting on his lap. He seemed pristine from the shoulders up, like he had looked when you left your shared apartment this morning; but from the chest down… “Oh fuck, Jase-”  
“I’m… the Red Hood right now, Babe.” Jason corrected slowly, eyes slipping shut and lips curling up in a small smile. How he could smile at this moment, a bullet having ripped a hole in his thigh and the clear gash of a stab wound across his abdomen. When your hand ghosted down to brush against his chin, his own hand caught it and brought it to his lips in order to press a cold but loving kiss against the palm. The kiss was appreciated and was reciprocated with a gentle one to his forehead, but your wide eyes focused on his wounds, which had him make a disgruntled noise.  
“Of course you are, Jay-babe. My Mistake.” You sniffed and cupped his chin with the hand he had kissed, “…Do I want to know who did this and why?”  
“No. Not really.” He groaned and struggled to push himself up off of the ground, letting out a noise of appreciation when you helped him to his feet. Your arm protectively slung around his waist. Since Batman dropped off the face of the map (you refused to believe he was really dead), and Jason revealed his 'job' to you, you had no clue where it was Jason spent his nights, and who it was he occupied his time beating the shit out of. “…Thanks.”  
“Thank me when you’re patched up, okay?” You mumble, trying to keep your voice low. While your neighbours didn't make much of an effort to interact with you and Jason, you didn't want to make enough noise to trigger them into coming out, either to tell you to shut the fuck up, or to finally attempt conversation. He leaned against you while you lead him to the apartment door, knees bucking as you try to unlock it with the weight of his entire body across your back. After a mild struggle, the door was unlocked allowing you to stagger with him to the elevator.  
“You don’t have to help me…” He coughed out, a slight amount of blood oozing from the corner of his mouth and dripping onto the floor. “I can do it myself, you know.”  
On any other day his fierce independence would have been admirable, god knows that strength and self-reliance was something about him that had made you fall in love with him, but at that moment in time, you were more likely to punch him in the arm. It was almost infuriating. Watching him all bloody, slumped against the mirrored wall of the elevator was almost heart wrenching. It wasn’t hard to blur your eyes and imagine Jason a little younger, and a lot smaller, still in his Robin suit bleeding and beaten, waiting for someone to come help him that never arrived. You breathe in deeply and smile weakly down at him. No one had helped him then, but now you had a chance to help him.  
“…Sure. You could patch yourself up.” You remarked back to him, hand running through his hair to try and soothe him. “You could, but I’m not going to let you.”  
“You gonna patch me up, Babe?”  
“Of course I am, Boy Wonder…” You whisper. "Of course I am."

When Jason finally hit the couch, let you begin to immediately pull his bloodied articles of clothing off, flinching when your fingers gently touched the bleeding wound. His eyes shut tightly in a wince.  
“…If- If you wanted my clothes off so bad you could have just asked…” He struggled to joke only for you to push him back onto the couch with one hand while the other scrabbled beneath the couch for the first-aid kit.  
“Who did it?” Your voice was harsh, having completely ignored his feeble attempt at humour.  
“No one important.” He groaned as he watched you thread a needle for his stitches, one of your hands resting between his pectorals. “…Fuck… Get me a drink at least…”  
“If you’re a big boy who can get shot and stabbed then you can take the stitches.” You mutter before gently pushing a needle of anaesthetic into his arm. “There… big baby.”  
“…Red Hood…” He slurred as you began to stitch him up.  
“Clown Name, Robin.” You teased, reminded of late nights as a teenager stitching Jason up as he sat in uniform on your window ledge, and then how lonely you had been after his disappearance. Those thoughts were what fuelled you on to continue stitching up his wound even at the feeling of his blood- still warm and cloying- clinging to your fingertips as you forced the needle through his skin. When he took a sharp inhale, you cringed and bit your lip. As soon as the stitching was finished, you finally allowed your hands to shake. The shaking only ended once Jason leaned up to press his lips to yours.  
“…Love you, Baby.”  
“I love you too…”


End file.
